Players and Pawns : The Countdown
by Daniel Jay
Summary: Set seven months after 'The Cleansing'. The Daywalkers return, with greater goals this time around


Back on the outskirts of Sunnydale, Everett felt alright. It was good to be home. He had been gone for a little over seven months. In that time he was training, adjusting, and hanging with his new girlfriend, Annie. The days were filled with a lot of hard work, but they were also the happiest days of his life. After countless years of wandering aimlessly and killing for no real purpose, he finally belonged. 

His years of being a worthless vampire were now a distant memory. He was now part of the Clan of Ecrasmau's, the eternal beings that fed off the blood of the mortals and killed those who were beneath them. They had a purpose, and more so they had the power to achieve it. Unlike every other vampire he met, they possessed the ultimate virtue: patience. Patience kept their kind hidden from the outside world throughout the years and it would ensure their supremacy. 

He remembered the day he became "one" fondly. Annie had taken him on a long journey. After three days of traveling by car, plane, and then boat, they were nearing the end. Everett wasn't really sure where they were, but he knew a few things. They sure as hell weren't in America anymore. They were now in a jungle of some sort. His definition of civilization wasn't anywhere near here. He asked Annie where they were exactly. She said she couldn't tell him. Not until he was "blessed" by Jael himself, who he guessed to be her leader. The thought of running crossed his mind more than a few times. Then reason caught up to him. Why bring him all this way only to kill him (he didn't want to admit that he only stayed because Annie wanted him to). Better to stick it out and see what happens.

Guided by two men, who obeyed Annie's every word, they arrived at their destination. A temple right out of the movies. It didn't have a lot of designs on the outside, but its structure was elaborate. Everett spent many days lost before he learned the entire layout. A large 20-foot wall that had only one entrance, very easy to guard, circled the outside. Getting in, or getting out, unannounced would prove to be a hard feat. 

Behind the gargantuan wooden doors, there was a courtyard. Everett guessed that it was used for gatherings. He noticed several other things. There were many guards along the wall. All were equipped with machine guns. Western civilization wasn't totally devoid here. The building at the center of the yard possessed no windows, something that Everett didn't really mind. The only entrance to the building was a single door. Everett guessed that the building held at least three floors. He found himself wondering how many people could live in this place. He would soon find out.

Annie barked orders at the men to take their place along the wall. They complied immediately. Everett found it weird that she could so easily turn from passive too ferocious. He really liked it. She then led Everett through the teeny doorway and into the premises. 

The first floor looked very dingy and lived in. The rooms they passed on their trek down the hallway were lit by lanterns and were decorated by singular beds and stark dressers. The phrase "all the comforts of home" did not apply here. They eventually came to the end and another door. This time, it led to a staircase going downwards. Everett followed Annie once again and found himself in a different environment.

Whereas the top level was a befouled and shoddy place, the lower levels were the picture of elegance. Everett couldn't believe that a basement could be so extravagant. All the walls looked marble and were decorated by arts from all over the globe. He recalled seeing similar artifacts on the History Channel that were showcased from ancient civilizations. The sheer size of the basement was also something to mention. Everett counted at least five levels. Since he was never allowed to go deeper he could never be sure. 

The first and only day that he was allowed into level five was the day he arrived. Annie led him through the maze to Jael himself, to everyone in fact. It was the day of his, Annie's, and another's christening. 

The other was a vampire who Everett once met briefly named Rueben. Instead of going through all the trouble of concocting some elaborate plan, he killed several other vampires and stole their clothes. Thus, creating a impenetrable barrier to the sunlight. A brilliantly simplistic plan that Everett wished he'd thought of. They were part of the few who were pre-selected by the Clan to be tested, the vampires who demonstrated the right qualities which the Clan held dearly, namely loyalty, intelligence, strength and humility. 

Except for Annie. She was part of the few humans groomed since birth to be in the Clan. They were put to the test during the Cleansing. She succeeded in picking a vampire she believed would survive. The other servants were to guard all exits to the sewer, such as the humans Everett killed at Willy's. All the other humans like Annie failed in their choices. She was only one deemed worthy of the divine.

The number of Jael's soldiers would now be increasing from eight to 11. He would need every available member when the time of the next battle came. Every other servant hoped that he or she would one day become a member, but the odds were astronomical. Still, if they lived, they would be sitting by the side of a god, and not at his feet. That was reason enough to obey his will.

Level five wasn't any different than the previous, with one exception it contained the Chapel. It was where every member underwent the transfiguration. New blood would enter their veins and burn out all impurities. Little did Everett know that it was literal. In his case, at least. 

The three of them were lined up in the middle of the room. They were surrounded on each side by the eight. Everett couldn't help but feel hesitant. He was completely at the mercy of these people who were trying to kill him just a few days ago. Out of a metallic door located at the rear, Jael came to meet his new children. The flames along the walls didn't illuminate the room well so Everett couldn't really get a good look at the man. All he knew was that he was big and he had to gain the respect of so many people some how.

He stepped before them. The light behind him did nothing to expose his features. It did little but form an eerie contour of his shape. Everett felt it was fitting with the ominous feeling of the moment. The dark figure that comes before you with a life altering decision, "Do you choose to be one?" 

Jael's voice was assertive and stout. Everett guessed that if Jael wished it, his voice could be thunderous. Befitting a god. He said one word to the three, "Kneel." Everett and the others complied immediately. Everett watched as Naeem walked up from behind him and passed a knife to Jael. It glittered in the darkness.

Annie was the first to be turned. Everett watched as Jael ran the blade through his own hand. Jael didn't make a sound as the cold steel shred the skin and bone. He pulled the blade out and passed it back to Naeem. Naeem held the knife carefully and moved back to his place in the line.

Jael walked to the spot before Annie. He held out his hand and asked her a question. "Do you accept my blood?" The beads of blood were already flowing off his fingers. 

"Yes," she replied. She pulled the palm of his hand into her mouth and drank hungrily. The next thing she did was die after Naeem stabbed her in the back, puncturing her heart. He let her fall to her back and bleed out onto the floor. Everett was beside her so he knew it was now his turn, but for what? He still didn't know the answer.

Jael moved before Everett. He held out his hand again. "Do you accept my blood?" Everett didn't answer. Doubt's rose in his mind. "This is your chance to be part of something. A chance to start over and become a new man. A better man."

With each word spoken, the doubts were struck down like bowling pins. Everett didn't really know why, but he felt good about his decision. "Yes." Jael placed his hand against Everett's mouth. Everett felt the blood fill his mouth and then travel down into his throat. That's when the pain started. 

His veins felt like they were traveled by fire. Within a few seconds his entire body was engulfed in the agonizing sensation. It didn't end for a week. During that time persons unknown fed him blood and kept him as comfortable as possible. Once it stopped, Everett never felt better. He was born again. 

Annie explained to him that his blood was tainted and fought against the new matter altering it. That's why he and Rueben's alteration's were hurtful. Everett first felt angry that this wasn't told to him before the transformation, but those feelings disappeared after he witnessed his first sunrise in 321 years. He never thought that something so simple and common could be so beautiful. 

He was now an Ecrasmau. A breed apart from the vampires he was once part of. No more feelings of hatred or jealously towards each other, each person knew their place in the world accepted it. The 11 of them were all equal. Except for Naeem, but he never abused his authority. Their loyalty to Jael was unquestionable. He held his power through respect and fear. He couldn't be killed by a physical attack and they all knew it. If they wanted to usurp his power, they would have to figure out how to kill the unkillable, not an easy task. 

The sun was dawning on Sunnydale. Everett felt the warm rays of sunlight casting across his face. It was a wonderful feeling. He couldn't help but wonder what the vampires he once knew were doing. They were probably settling into their beds right about now, unaware that their time on this planet was approaching nothingness. He couldn't wait till he saw them again. It would be well worth the wait.

2

Just when Willow thought she had run out of tears, she was proved wrong. The warm, salty tears coasted down her checks. It was scrimmaging through her dresser, in search of a pencil, that she came across picture of her and Oz. It was at the Bronze. A smile slid across her teary complexion. It was during the time he tinted his hair a bleached orange. She never really understood why he was always changing his hair color. Maybe it was an expression of what he was, special. How many geniuses could have a good heart and play the guitar to boot. Not many or at least none Willow had met.

Underneath the picture, Willow spotted a pencil. She placed the picture behind the old magazine crowding her dresser. She didn't want to cry right now, better to hide the picture. Pencil in hand, she moved sluggishly towards her bed. She caught a glimpse of herself in her mirror. Evidence of the tears was obvious. I'm a mess. Willow brushed the cuff of her shirt against her face. Got the beached wale thing going. No need to be the weeping beached wale. 

Willow let out a sigh of relief settling onto the bed. Beside her was a small memo book. Her mom, Sarah Rosenberg, was going out for groceries soon and asked her to make a list. Those soft chocolate chip cookies, that's what she was craving. That and rice. There was nothing better than Uncle Ben's. Of course, during the conversation, Sarah had managed to raise a common subject of debate, Liam. In the beginning, she and Mr. Rosenberg didn't really mind having him stay in their house. Their daughter was in need of comfort and he seemed to do the trick. Now soon to be crowding problems, alongside his awkward behavior, made them question the validity of his occupancy.

"I saw him watching TV."

"So?"

"It was the Spanish channel. He was sitting there watching attentively. I asked him if he knew any Spanish and he said, "Not to my knowledge." Then, I asked him why he was watching the if he didn't understand the language and he said, "Oh, I didn't realize." Then he changed the channel like nothing strange had happened. That boy is strange, Willow."

You didn't have to tell her that. It was a fact that Willow knew all to well. She once saw him working on math problems that College students would find gruesome. He said he was trying his hand at them for fun. Fun, not a word commonly associated with mathematics. His fighting skills were another thing to be reckoned with. He was a good sparring partner for Buffy and beat her occasionally. Something that was done by very few people. 

His memories were as bleak as their knowledge of his origins. Giles had found no precedent when it came to Liam. By all accounts, there was never a demon so "human". Their search for information on the Ecrasmau was also a dead end. Giles became so frustrated that he even went to the Watcher's Council for help. They refused, but Giles felt it was because they knew nothing and didn't want to say it. The arrogance of the British he said.

Willow finished her list. It wasn't that long, but she expected that the numbers of the individual items listed would be large. She hoped her mom would go to the store soon. The sun was setting and she couldn't lose another person she loved. A dark feeling settled over Willow at the thought of death. She fought back the tears and made her way back to the living room.

* * * *

"Come on you wimp! Let's do this!" Buffy snarled at the vampire. The vampire looked at her ecstatic. She obviously didn't know what she was up against. 

"I've been waiting for this for a long time, Slayer," the vampire yelled boisterously. "Try not to disappoint me!"

She charged towards Buffy from across the cemetery like elk through the prairie, a rabid elk but still an elk. As she dashed through the darkness she passed numerous aligned tombstones and random trees. The shadows she ran through looked like scars across the land, clawing at the holy ground. All the while Buffy called her on in thought. That's right. COME ON! 

The vampire was nearing her target when an unforeseen obstacle halted her. Standing behind a tree, Liam extended his arm clotheslining the girl and sending her hurtling forward. She landed on her back, skidding against the grass briefly. In a dazed state she fought to compose herself. The upper portion of her chest hurt. The last thing she saw was Buffy before her, stake ready.

The vampire disappeared into a cloud of ash. Buffy dusted herself off and placed the stake back into her jacket pocket. Liam came before her, looking very calm.

"Good job," he said flatly.

"Thanks." Buffy replied in kind.

Liam eyed the spot where the vampire died. Her ashes were being picked up by the faint wind whistling through the air. His mood was melancholy. Senseless death always left him feeling empty. 

"Don't they know we're on the same side now? Or at least under a temporary alliance?" Liam asked, his voice echoing his mood.

"There are some vampires even Fran isn't capable of reasoning with." Buffy's voice was empty. She didn't share in Liam's feelings of sympathy. As far as she was concerned, another menace to society was gone. She wouldn't be able to kill anyone ever again. She wouldn't kill someone outside a hospital.

Stop it, Buffy. Concentrate on the job at hand. 

"Well, another day, another dead vampire," Buffy said casually. "It's time to go home. I've got a major History report due on Monday."

"Good," Liam said. "You go home. Sleep. I'll go out and continue with the patrol."

Buffy didn't see anything wrong with that proposal. She started off when she stopped only a step later. "You okay?" she asked. "You're more quiet that usual."

"Same feelings of impending doom I always have, only more so."

Buffy nodded. She wasn't really sure if he was serious or not. But it was obvious he wanted to be alone. A solitary man that Liam was. Buffy walked out of the cemetery and back to her mother's, the place where she stayed on the weekends. Liam was left alone, again.

_She's gone. Are you going to kill something now, you little bitch?_

The voice was familiar. It spoke from the black corner of his mind.

Shut up. 

_Awe. Is that anyway to speak to your best friend. We're blood, baby. And nothing is stronger than blood._

The voice was right about one thing, he was a bitch. He lied to Willow when he said he woke up blank. He heard voices, faint whispers telling him to do unspeakable acts to her. They disappeared as soon as Willow moved to unchain him. He considered telling her about them. His cowardliness kept the words from being spoken. What would she think of him for having those thoughts? They were gone anyway. Ghosts of the past vanishing into thin air.

The voice wouldn't die. Periodically he would hear muted calls of, "_Kill, kill_." Mostly when he was feeling scared or uneasy. Then they became louder. "_Kill! Kill!"_ Still, it was only when he was feeling helpless. Now that did not matter. All it took was the threat of combat and it would rise, calling him to let loose. It was a call he almost answered a few times. He was walking a very fine line now. Fighting to stay in control and not give in to his darker tendencies. 

It would be so easy to give in to the rage that seemed all so natural to him. He was demon. He was sure of it. His strength was directly linked to the voice. The voice was evil and the evil was as much a part of him as his heart. Was he only denying his true self? He refused to believe it. 

Choices. Everyone has choices to make in their lives. He would make the right ones. He was placed here for a reason and he would find out why. If it was to fight evil, so be it. If not… He didn't want to think about it.

_That's right, bitch. You're mine. You're going to bathe in the blood of all your so-called friends. You'll kill them all and you'll like it!_

Calm yourself. He only talks when you're feeling uneasy. 

Liam's breathing became slow and deep. The aftertaste of the kill dwindled and left the edifice of his mind. It was now quiet, as was the night around him.

The moon shone brightly in the black sky littered by twinkles of the stars. It was especially beautiful in light of the tragedy that just transpired. Life was fragile and lovely. It wasn't grotesque and perverted like the vampire. He would always remember that.

While his thoughts were peaceful, off in the distance, the thoughts of another were warped and cruel. They were of killing and torture. Naeem really wanted to kill Liam and vowed they would eventually duel.

You're going to die, fucker. 

Naeem spent the next few hours following Liam as he wandered the town. The stalking ended when Liam went home, back to the Rosenbergs'. Naeem's face was a crimson smile. It was here that they would fight and the boy would die. And in the process, maybe he'd snack on the inhabitants. The girl would be a tasty treat, like her boyfriend.

* * * *

The sun was rose again in the perpetual circle of life. Daytime, it was a boring time for vampires. Nothing to do but sleep, read a book, watch some TV, or some other pointless activity. For a group of vampires living in a ghostly, old mansion, there's always poker.

"I'll raise you five dollars," Crunch said thumbing through his cards.

Robin eyed Crunch from across the oval table, looking for a sign hinting at his cards. His face was the classic "poker face", showing zero emotion. She considered the situation carefully.

"Alright," she stated. "I'll call your bluff, buuuuddy."

Robin tossed her five singles into the pot of bills and quarters in the center. She slid her cards onto the blank section of the table before her. She possessed a mixed flush, jack high. Crunch's poker face kept when he followed, scattering his cards across the table.

"Bastard!" Robin uttered blaring.

Crunch smiled. "I told you not to mess with me. I am the god of poker. In fact, many have sacrificed their first born to me," he joked.

"Sonofabitch," Robin muttered looking at his cards. He had a straight flush, king high. "You little punk ass," she said, continuing to curse her luck.

"You're the one who wanted to play poker," Fran pointed out. "We all learned our lesson a couple of hundred dollars ago."

"May I suggest a new game?" Graham asked.

"We're not playing strip poker, asshole!"

Graham looked hurt by the rejection of his idea. Everyone loves strip poker. He shook it of and went back to playing with his pretzels.

Crunch pulled the pot towards his already large pile giggling insanely. "Gimme the cash," he said while snickering.

Robin was already bored and she only arrived in Sunnydale a few hours ago. "What else is there to do in this town?"

"Nothing really," Fran answered. "We're on standby."

"That whole Daywalkers thing?"

"Yeah," Fran said. "We have to keep a low profile and not anger our new ally for the time being. That's why Sunnydale hasn't been a hotbed of evil activity lately."

Robin sighed. "I thought there would be at least a large number of vamp's living here in case they returned. I thought we could party."

"That's exactly why there aren't a hell of a lot of vampires here," Crunch said.

"You don't like to party?"

"Of course I like to party!" Crunch sounded offended by the accusation. "The Daywalkers returning thing is why we're keeping our numbers low. It's better to spread out the population so they don't have a huge target to strike at. That's what Fran says, anyway. I wouldn't know about that stuff."

"Ahh, Fran's a military mind now," Robin teased. Fran's smile was shy. "I remember back in the day when we used to have to listen to all those egomaniacal bastards. Now you're one of them."

"Shut up, you bitch," Fran said playfully. "Someone had to step up and lead, and I was the only one who wanted to. Not wanted to, was willing to," she said correcting herself. "All the major players I spoke to said they didn't want to have to deal with all the Sunnydale brats."

"Hey!" Graham sounded offended.

"I'm sure she didn't mean you, man," Crunch assured Graham. Graham looked satisfied with the explanation and went back to his source of entertainment. The bigger pretzel was currently winning in the battle. But… you never know with those pretzel bouts. They could go either way.

Robin asked Fran another question, ignoring the cry from the lesser pretzel. "When were you speaking to the big boys, and which ones?"

"After the big killing, word spread like wildfire. Everyone wanted to know what was going down in Sunnydale and I was here to field his or her questions. I even spoke to Donald Christopherson the III. Well, his representative in actuality." 

"That dude was a major player in the 800's. Before his chick was killed by a Slayer," she added. Realization flashed on her face. "That's probably why he doesn't want to come here, he'd probably kill this Slayer."

Fran shrugged. "Maybe?"

"Who else did you speak to?"

"Umm, Nicholas Hannigan, Anthony La Salle, Adabasi Kahn, Nadine Stegler, Joseph Soprano, The Dude."

"Fucking rip-off," Crunch mumbled.

"What?" Robin asked.

"The Dude! He only came up with that after The Big Lebowski came out. I met him back when he was calling himself Jeff Vicious. And that was only after the Sex Pistols came out with their brilliant album, 'Never Mind The Bullocks'." Crunch paused. "The guy's name his fucking Jeffrey Mastrolanne! I have no respect for people with no originality! Fuckin pissant!" 

Fran and Robin looked at Crunch scared, surprised, and confused. "Okay," Fran said hesitantly. "Now that our little psycho public service announcement is over, I'll continue. Sinister, Sophie Fargas."

"Sophie Fargas! I love her!" Robin said excited. "She's been my idle since I was a pup."

"Mine too! She's like the original vampire feminist." 

"I love that story of her castrating her sire, braking both his legs, and then keep him trapped in a well for 20 years after he burnt one of her dresses," Robin said sneering. 

"Such a tragedy for vampire men everywhere," Crunch said shaking his head. "She reminds me of that one chick who came through here a couple of days ago saying she was going to kill the Slayer. A feisty, stupid one she was."

"Fucking rogues," Fran said harshly. "They don't listen to common sense and end up getting themselves killed."

Robin took a sip from her mug filled with pig's blood. It was cold. Beer was good cold, not blood. But you have to keep it refrigerated so there was nothing to do.

"Well what the hell do you do it this town then?" Robin asked. "You can't kill anyone so you can't have much fun."

"We're scouts," Fran stated. "We watch, just in case the Daywalkers come back. And if they do, we spread the word to every vampire we know and the gloves come off." Fran's smile was vicious. "It'll be payback time, baby."

Graham jumped in saying, "If they don't kill us all first."

The words silenced the others, leaving a bitter ending to an otherwise happy conversation.

* * * *

Buffy was feeling half-dazed. The painkillers were really taking effect. 

Willow's pregnant. Wow! 

The two talked for a few minutes, discussing Willow's plans and other things. Usual girl stuff. That's when Giles showed up. 

"Hey, Giles," Buffy said. "You had to show up after all the work is done," she said lightheartedly.

Giles didn't respond. That's when Buffy noticed he was pale as a ghost. He looked like he wanted to say something, but couldn't find the words. Buffy became worried.

"Giles?" Willow asked.

Like a damn at its peak, Giles broke. He burst into tears as the overwhelming sadness and grief took hold. He ripped off his glasses and pressed his hands against his eyes, trying to hold back the tears.

"I'm so sorry, Willow," he whimpered. "I'm so sorry."

Several days later, a large group was gathered in one of the many cemeteries of Sunnydale. Oz had a large family. Not immediate, he had a much older sister living in Miami as an ad executive, but many cousins, aunts, and uncles. He was much loved by everyone he met. Teachers, band mates, friends, lovers, all came to honor the memory of this man. The local grave keeper would remember this as one of the largest funerals ever attended in his long run.

There were three who were chiefly distraught. The parents of Oz, and of course, Willow. She didn't have the heart to tell anyone of her news. The grief of Oz's death had yet to hit. She felt numb more that anything. Like a dark mist had descended around her and she couldn't find her way out. A day later she went to the parents and told them how much she loved their son. Then she told them of the child on the way. That's when it hit. A tidal wave of anguish hit her and left her in uncontrollable sobs. His mother held her and told Willow that they would help her in whatever way they could. The three held each other and shared in their cries, helping themselves in the process. The healing process began there.

The burial went off as well as a funeral could go. Oz was placed into the ground and his coffin was covered in the cold soil. Death was often cold. The crowd dispersed and went to their lodgings, the sadness trailing them. The air too became cold as the sun set, enclosing Sunnydale with impenetrable murk. Not even the stars or moon chose to show themselves.

A lone soul showed up that night. She decided to come to ask his forgiveness. And to promise that she would take care of Willow and the child she would bare. Buffy often blamed herself when her responsibilities came into play. Whether she was actually accountable or not. 

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

_Who gives a fuck?_

Buffy's head snapped to the side, then the opposite, in search of the origin of the voice. She realized where it came from. It spoke from her mind.

Beneath her feet, the ground rumbled. Buffy stumbled back and tripped on a stick, falling from her feet. A gross, rotten hand tore from the soil. Buffy's fear was paralyzing. Another hand joined the other, helping the person to the surface. A moment later the person was on the surface, gazing down at her. It was Oz.

His eyes were an empty abyss. They were dead, as was the rest of his body. His skin was colored blue and purple, but most noticeable was his neck. It was torn open, showing the arteries, flesh, and dried blood lying within. He opened his mouth to talk; though no words came out. They instead invaded Buffy's mind.

_YOU BITCH!_

The voice was shrewd and malicious. Buffy covered her ears with her hands in a vain attempt to halt its torment.

_YOU REALLY FUCKED UP NOW, GIRL! I'LL SEE YOU DEAD BEFORE YOUR NEXT SLEEP!!!_

She shut her eyes as the tears began to flow. Through the clouded slit she glanced at Oz. He looked as passive as he did in life. He made no movement towards her.

_YOU KILLED ME, BUFFY! YOU KILLED ME AND…_

* * * *

Buffy woke up screaming. She catapulted off the bed to the upright position. She glanced around panicked, looking for the talking corpse. There was nothing. She was back in her room.

The door to her room flung open. Buffy jumped, half expecting the dead to follow her out of her dream. In its stead, Xander stood there, surveying the room with alarmed eyes. Satisfied with his glance, Xander rushed to Buffy's side.

"It's okay," he whispered. He sat down on the bed next to her and wrapped his arms around her. "It was just a nightmare," he said stroking her hair.

Just a nightmare? Of course! Buffy remembered that she didn't even attend the funeral. She was still in the hospital recovering from her injuries. She tried to discharge herself but the doctors wouldn't have it. They even placed a guard at her door to make sure she wouldn't leave.

It was so vivid. I could practically smell the rot. 

Buffy realized that her breathing abnormally fast and consciously tried to calm herself. She repeated the words; "it was just a dream". It was all just a dream. Or was it? Could it be a prophecy?

"Xander!"

Xander pulled back. "Yeah?" he asked. His tone was serious. She really had him worried.

"Ohm." Buffy paused. She didn't know where to start and was looking for the right words. She decided to get the pleasantries out of the way first. "What are you doing here?"

"I came here to visit you. That and raid your fridge. Your mom was kind enough to let me have some Lucky Charms," he said smiling. A question came to mind. Xander answered it before she could ask. "She left around a half hour ago. Gallery stuff," he said as an afterthought.

Buffy glimpsed at the clock. It read 11:34. She cursed herself for sleeping in. She had a lot of work to do today. Her attention turned back to Xander. He was looking at her attentively, waiting for her to speak. She took in a breath.

Covered in sweat, she thought, So gross. 

"I'm going to take a shower," she blurted out and hurried to the door. Xander sat on the bed for a few minutes, wondering what the hell just happened.

* * * *

A half-hour later, Buffy found herself in a fresh set of clothes, eating some Sugar Crisp in the kitchen. Xander must have still been hungry since he was also eating another bowl of cereal. Though, he opted for Special K this time around. Not before he dumped a few teaspoons of sugar into the bowl. It needs taste, he said.

The conversation started with Xander asking Buffy about how it was going at school. She talked about how it was difficult juggling her school, and slaying, responsibilities. However, the lack of demonic activity in the last few months certainly helped her out. Too bad it didn't help with her awful roommate problem.

The conversation turned to Xander when he talked about his job as an assistant taxidermist. Good pay, since no one really wanted to help stuff dead animals. Meeting all the whores, who stopped by to see his Uncle, and access to the free beer was another plus. On the opposite side of the coin, it gave him initiative to do something he was dreading. He would be joining Buffy at Sunnydale University the next year, since working with corpses gave him the will to get an education. Unfortunately, he would have to keep the job to pay his tuition. He cursed his, "Damn lack of money". 

"Me, you, and Willow going to school together."

"Once again," Xander said happy. "People to copy off of. Yay," Xander cheered.

After a few minutes of talking about trivial things, Buffy decided it was time to move into the topic that was still giving her chills. The thought of the dream left a cold residue over her mind. It remained vivid, despite time passed. She told him of the decayed corpse of their friend, and how it attacked her. Xander listened heedful, trying to pay attention to the details. It was often the detail that made the story, or this case, the dream. Buffy finished and told Xander what she thought it was.

"A prophecy, huh?"

"It make's perfect sense." Buffy thought about that for a second. "Actually it doesn't. But, due to past instances, I believe it was a prophecy."

"Sounds reasonable," Xander said. "What do you think it means then? I don't think Oz is going to rise from his grave and try to kill us."

"Neither do I," Buffy said agreeing. "I think it was more of a warning. That the people who killed Oz are coming back." 

Xander was visibly disturbed by this possibility. He had spent the last seven months of his life trying to help Willow through her ordeal. Now it looked like that treasure chest of demons would be opened again. 

"I keep coming back to one thing," Buffy said, restarting the dialogue. "Oz said, "you killed me, Buffy. You killed me and." "And" who? Who is this other person who died. No one else we cared about died around the time he was killed."

Xander sighed. "I wish I was Batman," he uttered.

Buffy looked at him suspiciously. It was an odd thing to say. "Which one?" she asked. "Keaton, Clooney, or Kilmer?"

"West!" Xander exclaimed. "He was a true detective. He could go from a riddle involving eggs and applesauce to the UN in a minute. Now that's smart."

"Yeah, I guess so," Buffy said chuckling. "To tell you the truth, I have an idea what the dream means." Xander leaned forward. She had his full attention. "It is a prophecy, in the truest sense of the word. Someone is going to die." Xander didn't know how to react to the words. His pose was stone. "I'll say this, though. If the Ecrasmau's are coming back, they won't be walking away this time."

3

Elsewhere in Sunnydale, Jael sat on a large wooden chair contemplating three thousand years of planning. Three thousand years, it was a long time. What marvelous things he could have accomplished if he chose to pursue them. Start a family? Farfetched, but it could have happened. He could still pass his seed to a woman. An ability not possessed by all immortal beings. He could have… become emperor of Japan and led them to greatness. Still, these were insignificant in comparison to his ultimate goal. What would love and leadership mean to a god? Nothing, absolutely nothing at all.

If he started contemplating the ifs and whys of his existence too much, he might go insane. Besides, destruction was in his blood. It was in his blood since his twenty eighth birthday. That was when the darkman came to him in his sleep. That's the day he died and had his first taste of ultimate power. 

After that, the power became his obsession. The ability to kill with a thought was a drug that had no rival. Only, it filled him with self-love and vanity. He believed himself to be invulnerable. Too bad it wasn't true.

When he lost the power he was blessed with, it humbled him. He found himself longing for it once again. His search for a way to restore it began there. And sure enough, he found it. This time he vowed to be careful in his pursuit. He wouldn't make the same mistakes and lose the one advantage he had. He wouldn't give them the opportunity to exploit his weakness by revealing himself. The element of surprise would ensure his victory in the final battle.

The door to the shaded room opened. The rays of light from the hallway illuminated the room, lit by a singular candle on the nightstand beside Jael. Jael could easily recognize the person standing in the doorway. 

"Naeem," Jael said. "Come."

Naeem walked into the private chamber, staying in the path of brightness. He was dressed in his favorite civilian clothing. The dark clothes suited him Jael thought. Thought the reason for the donning of them left Jael sad. Naeem wanted to go out and have his revenge.

"Master," Naeem said humbly, standing before his father. "I want to know when we will be able to strike against the Slayer and her allies. The others are becoming restless," he lied. They were content to wait while he wanted blood to flow, immediately! 

"Soon."

"When!" Naeem said impatiently. He realized his rudeness and calmed his voice. "When, master. I would really like to know."

"By day's end, we will begin the fight." Jael paused. "Naeem, do you remember the first thing I taught you?"

"Yes," Naeem said flatly. He knew what Jael was driving at. "You spoke of how emotions cloud your mind."

"And how you shouldn't let them control you," Jael said, finishing the statement. "When you go out tonight, remember that. Don't let your emotions destroy you as they did to me. And her."

Naeem flinched. It was the first time since her death Jael spoke of Galina. He didn't know how to react. His first instinct was anger. How dare he speak of Galina that way! She was murdered! But there was a note of truth his that statement. Galina was often impulsive and quick-tempered. She may have been liable in her death, as much as Tobias. His feelings didn't falter. He still hated the Slayer, and the strange one. Both would die. 

"Thank you for the advice," Naeem said, with as much sincerity in his voice as he could muster. Naeem rushed out of the room as fast as he could and closed the door behind him. 

"I'm sorry, my son," Jael said to the empty room. A lone tear trailed down his check for all those who would die in the next few days. Maybe Naeem would be among them.

* * * *

Xander took in a deep breath, trying to create a happy, anxiety free, facade. Not an easy thing to do when you're worried for your pregnant, best friend's life. Xander sat on the couch of Willow Rosenberg's living room. Beside him was Liam Rosenberg, a name he dubbed himself when he found himself with none of his own. While the two were watching Billy Corgan call himself a zero on "The nation's music station: MuchMusic", Willow was in the kitchen making some popcorn for the group. Xander offered to help her but she declined. She said that she was sick of people treating her like a child and would do it herself. She also didn't like the fact that Xander, somehow, always burnt the popcorn. A hard thing to do with a microwave.

Xander felt uneasy around Liam. Buffy's words earlier struck a cord with him.

"I want you to go to Willow's and watch out for her. There's no way she's going to get hurt."

"I was going to go over there in case she goes into labor when her parents are out, anyway. She's reaching the end of her pregnancy. I'd have to call her mom since she's her Lamaze coach."

"If anything, I mean ANYTHING, seems weird, call me. I'll be with Giles kicking research mode into overdrive. Don't trust anyone. Not Fran, not Liam."

"Liam?"

"What do we know about him? Nothing, minus the past seven months. For all we know, he's playing possum waiting to strike. So be careful and don't tell Willow about the dream. She's under enough pressure right now."

Like I'm not now. I wish I had my gun. 

Xander never thought he'd say that, or think it. Then again, he never thought he'd buy a gun. It's amazing what having your best friend's boyfriend murdered could drive you to do. It was after Oz was buried, he decided that he couldn't depend on Buffy for the rest of his life to protect everyone. He should have learned his lesson after Jessie died. Unfortunately, denial was a good friend to him back then.

He now felt, like Buffy, that he failed when Oz died. Nightmares were another thing that plagued Xander. The most horrific, was the one where Willow's child was born and asked, "Why did you let my dad die?" Another was when Willow blamed him for Oz's death and told him that she hated him. Not scary in the traditional sense, but they definitely left Xander with many sleepless nights. He was also aware that Buffy was having similar dreams prior to her prophecy. She never spoke of them, but the bags under her eyes were evidence enough.

Liam. Now he felt anxious around Liam. He feelings towards him were mixed. Like Buffy said, what did they know about him? Nothing except what he saw, and that was Liam being extraordinarily nice to Willow. More so than Xander could even recall himself being. He also felt indebted to Liam for everything he did in the past few months. Xander wished that he could be with Willow and help her out whenever she needed him. Responsibilities kept him from this dream but nothing kept Liam from achieving it. 

Homeless, Liam was invited by Willow to move in indefinitely. He was there whenever she needed someone. He was a shoulder to cry on, a person to laugh with, and even a personal bodyguard. Xander had a feeling that Liam helped destroyed any pre-childbirth jitters. He was like a child, in the beginning. And Willow took care of him, like she would for her own child.

Willow trusted him with her life. Buffy now felt that he was suspicious and therefore dangerous. Buffy was the expert when it came to demons and that's what scared him. If anyone should know, it would be her and Giles, of course. He would have to call later and get his perspective on the dream.

"That was the Smashing Pumpkins with "Zero" from the multi-platinum 1995 album, "Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness"," Rick the Temp said, staring out of the television screen. "That was a pretty good video, huh?" The camera shifted up and down, signaling that he or she agreed. "I know Billy Welychka likes that video," Rick said to a person off camera. 

"That's right," could be heard faintly. Bill wasn't wearing a microphone.

Rick smiled his boyish grin and continued with his VJ-ing. "We got a classic cut coming up from Nine Inch Nails, and coming up next are the Backstreet Boys. Backstreet Boys," he said, repeating himself. 

"Change the channel," Willow said, walking into the room with a big bowl of popcorn.

"But it's the guy with all the crap on his face," Xander said in mock protest. "He has shades, a soul patch, died hair, mustache, and a bunch of other stuff I don't know the names of." Liam picked up the remote and started flipping through the channels. "That's what I like about you, man," Xander said to Liam. "Your style is very simple." Willow sat down on the couch, leisurely, between the two. She held the bowl on her lap, within the reach of the two men. "You don't use hair spray, no shades, no earrings, nothing. Did I mention how I like your lack of hair? That's freedom."

"I like to keep it short," Liam said gruffly. All this attention was making him uncomfortable. He stopped flipping a second later and focused on the woman taking on the screen. She was talking about the band Blur.

"Hey, Jancee Dunn!" Xander said exuberant. "It's your sister, Wills."

"What?" Willow asked, confused by the utterance.

"She could be mistaken for your sister. Your mannerisms are similar, the way you talk. Even the way you look. Dye her hair red and you're the splitting image," Xander said, explaining himself.

Willow reluctantly agreed. "I guess that's true." 

Jancee was reaching the end of her monologue. "So, here's Damon and the rest of the gang with the video "Coffee and TV"."

"I love this video," Willow said, big grin intact. Her joy was infections, and Liam was soon sporting the exact same smirk. Xander had never seen the video so he was clueless.

The trio watched the video open with a missing person's label on a small milk carton. It then showed a family looking depressed and looking at a picture of a man enclosed in a large frame. It was the same man from the milk carton. 

This isn't very happy, Xander thought.

The tone suddenly changed. The music started up, a happy acoustic beat, and the milk carton stood up and started dancing on the kitchen table. Xander smiled.

This is so Willow, cute and adorable to a fault. 

The group sat on the couch watching the milk carton on his quest for the missing person. Their heads swayed to the side moderately to the beat of the acoustic. As did the milk carton's arms when he walked down the crowded streets. 

"So, Will, have you come up with a name for the kid yet?" Xander asked. "I'd also like to remind you that Xander is an awesome name that can't be made fun of by children, is original, and rolls of the tongue. Xander," he repeated slowly, emphasizing the beauty.

"I don't have a name if it's a boy, but I do if it's a girl. Nadia," she announced. 

Xander nodded his head, thinking of the name. "Sounds alright. I still don't know why you don't want to know the sex of the kid."

"I want to be surprised," Willow said.

"It'll be kind of hard to appreciate the surprise with all the screaming going on. Oh, god, it hurts!" Xander cried out, pretending to scream. "The pain! Is it a boy or a girl?!" 

Willow closed the argument. "Too late to do anything about it now. I've made my bed, time to lie in it."

"I guess so."

The video ended with the man drinking the milk carton and throwing him into the trash. The carton climbed to the top, and waved for a final time to the camera. He looked happy that he achieved his purpose in life. He found the man and returned him to his family. He then fell back into the trash and his ghost flew to milk carton heaven, side by side with his girlfriend. The music turned to that of moody organs and the video faded to black.

* * * *

"So, what do you think?"

"A very interesting dream, Buffy. Very interesting," Giles said, pacing the living room of his apartment.

"You think it's a prophecy right? I'm right about that."

"You'd be the one to question about that. You are the one who experienced the dream and therefore the best judge." Giles paused. "I've never experienced a prophetic dream so I couldn't tell you what they felt like. If you feel it is a prophecy then I believe you."

"Then it's settled," Buffy said, confident in her decision. "Next question, what did it mean?"

"Okay," Giles thought about it. "Let's look back to your previous dreams. They were all, in one form or another, fairly literal."

"That's true," Buffy said in consensus. "In the dream before the whole Judge fiasco, Drusilla killed Angel."

"And that came to pass. Because of the events Drusilla triggered, Angel lost his soul and became Angelus. The dream was a picture of things to come, though distorted," Giles added. "What dream was after that."

"The one where I was at the funeral." Buffy closed her eyes, opening her mind to the lost memory. "Angel hinted that Jenny was involved in his turning."

"Which was also true. He was informing you of important facts in an effort to help you in your current situation." Giles spoke the words quickly. He wanted to move away from the memory of his dead love.

"He was warning me," Buffy said, summarizing the statement.

"Yes, warning." He said the words as if announcing them to himself. It was helping in his thought process. "Let's go back to your current dream. Oz rose from his grave and attacked you," he said, sounding fairly like a question.

The unintentional doubt in his voice triggered something in Buffy's mind. "No, he didn't actually attack me. He popped out of his grave looking very scary but he never actually attacked me. He just stood on his grave, looking at me. It was the voice!" Buffy's voice was vociferous. "The voice was the actually element of horror. No words ever actually left Oz's mouth." Buffy's tone became hushed and moody. "Oz was never that angry in life, why should he be in death?"

"Neither of us believe Oz will be resurrected so it was a warning, not real events to come. Oz was warning us." Giles stopped walking and sat down on his couch next to Buffy. "The question is now who or what did the voice represent? An unknown enemy perhaps?" Giles took off his glasses and cleaned them with a handkerchief from his pants pocket.

"Like a phantom menace?"

"If you need a pop culture reference to help you, sure." Giles put the handkerchief onto the coffee table and placed the glasses back against his brow. "But still, there's still the other element of the dream."

"The message."

"Yes. One could argue that your interpretation is correct. It may be a foreshadowing of future events." Giles sighed. "But, and I hope this is true, nothing is set in stone Buffy. We've come into impossible situations in the past and we managed to defeat them. It may be a cautionary message and nothing else." Giles stepped to his feet and walked to the bookshelf across the room. "I have a book here on dream interpretations relating to demonic activity."

"They have a book for everything don't they."

"Oh, yes," Giles said chuckling. He was thumbing through the books when the phone started ringing. "Would you get that please, Buffy."

"Sure." Buffy stood up and walked over to the kitchen where the phone was stationed. She picked up the receiver and said, "Hello." A second later she said, "What! Xander, slow down." Giles' heart raced. "We'll be right there." She slammed down the phone and turned to Giles. He feared the worst. "Willow went into labor."

4

Liam ran through the streets of Sunnydale like a man possessed. Before he left the hospital, he told the others that there was probably nothing to worry about. That he was probably in the shower or taking a deep nap, though, it would probably resemble a coma. But the closer he came to the Rosenbergs' home, the more the sinking feeling in his stomach grew. Something was wrong.

That never learning to drive thing has finally caught up with me. I hope Ira is alright. 

Liam was sitting in the hospital waiting room with Buffy, her mother Joyce, Giles, and Amy. She was still grateful to Willow for taking care of her in those months when she was trapped in rat form. Most of all for finally setting her free just a few months ago. The nurses were adamant that there only be two people in the hospital room at a time while Willow's contractions grew. Xander was a nervous wreck and wouldn't be satisfied unless he was at Willow's side. The others felt for him so they agreed he should take the slot. 

The other person in the room was her mother, Sarah. She received top billing since she had spent the last few months with Willow preparing for this day. They attended Lamaze classes regularly and read the same books regarding motherhood. Willow said it was a little overwhelming, spending so much time with her mother who once forgot she was allergic to peanut butter and spent a few days in the hospital as a result. She adjusted and eventually bonded with her mother.

Willow was reaching the end of her run when Sarah came to the room and asked the group where Ira was, her husband. Buffy told her that Xander had left a note in haste and Buffy, herself, left several messages on their answering machine. Other than that, no one had seen or heard from him since lunch hour. For Buffy, the panic was kicked into go. 

Buffy called the house repeatedly and there was no answer. She called his office; he went in on Saturdays for some extra money, to no avail. The secretary said he left nearly an hour ago in case his daughter went into labor. Liam could see she was expecting the worse case scenario. She was torn between making sure Willow was safe and finding out if Ira was okay. Liam decided it should be he who went to check out the situation. Buffy agreed. No one else was qualified and would just be putting him or herself in danger, adding to her worry.

The sun was still up but that did little to relieve Liam's feelings. People died, day or night. Night was just a tad more fitting. 

He ran like a well-oiled machine. His legs moved up and down, with the grace held by many Olympic runners. His lungs felt fine, there was no feeling of fatigue lurking in his body waiting to strike him down in this time of urgency. It was a miracle or a curse, depending on your perspective.

Liam rounded the final corner and came to the street where his destination lay. He slowed his pace to a trot. Running blindly, into what could be a trap, is just stupid. The sun was nearing the horizon and it showed. The fading orange light brightened the street. The shadows of the trees, houses, were scattered across the adjacent lawns and houses. The street was quiet. No children were playing in the street. There was no movement of any kind, despite the faint wind. Surreal came to mind.

Liam stopped walking directly in front of the house. No lights were on. Liam couldn't recall if Xander had turned them off with all the craziness going on at the time. Liam started down the cement walkway to the front door. He wasn't sure why he was being so cautious. Maybe because of all the horror movies he watched with Willow. His life was a horror movie in itself so he wouldn't be surprised if some psycho was lurking behind the door, big ax in hand. 

He placed his hand on the knob and turned. The familiar handle squeaked as it rotated. It needed to be oiled or replaced. He heard a click.

If Mike Myers is behind this door, I'm going to be so angry. 

He pushed open the door. It swung silently until it hit the wall. This wasn't good. He distinctly remembered Willow telling Xander to lock the door so no robbers could enter. Why would it be open? Sarah came directly from Buffy's. She and Joyce drove together since they were visiting at the time. He doubted Sarah would have stopped by simply to unlock the door. 

Ira was here. Him or his key, but where were they now?

"Psst."

Liam's head cocked to the side. A man was standing at the side of the house, half enclosed in the shadows. He had a crazed smile plastered on his face.

"You want to buy a gold watch," he whispered. "Only fifteen bucks." He resembled a salesman on a bad acid trip. A chaotic laugh escaped his lips as his psychotic glare continued. Liam was stupefied. "Just kidding," he said, his voice still hushed. "Just jossen with ya." His tone became serious. "I've got what you need right here." The house blocked his right arm, but Liam didn't feel that surprised when he saw the man's merchandise. "A white, middle-aged, married man with one very pretty daughter." His voice was taunting. He was trying to "joss" him.

Damn. Ira was unconscious.

The man was strong. He held Ira Rosenberg by the neck with one hand, suspended off the ground. The sunrays glared onto his exposed skin. Liam felt a hatred that once lay dormant stir in its restless sleep. He was a Daywalker.

"You're a Ecrasmau?" Liam kept his voice composed. If Jackie Chan had taught him one thing, it's show no fear.

"I'm the Ecrasmau." The man's voice resembled normality. Maybe he wasn't insane. "I'm the first, and I will be the last." His eyes shifted hastily to Ira and back to Liam. He was also restless. "Let's cut through the super hero bullshit. I have no beef with this man. He's just my leverage to get what I want."

"And what's that?"

"An invitation," the man said smugly. "The old man fainted before I could get that much from him. I wanted to wait inside until you or the Slayer showed up. Then, we could settle a few scores."

There are a few scores to settle alright. A good start would be me putting my foot up your ass. Your kind killed a friend of a friend, so you die. 

_Don't throw stones in glass houses, bitch._

What did he mean by that? 

"So… are you going to invite me in?" The man tightened his grip around Ira's neck.

Liam broke out of his internal conflict and focused the intellectual spotlight on the man. "How do I know you won't kill him?" A reasonable question.

"I look at things logically. If I kill this man," the man shook Ira like an empty coke bottle. "you will become angry. I don't want you angry. An angry person is a dangerous person. That doesn't mean I won't kill him if I have to," he added, quashing any thoughts Liam had about rushing the man.

"Why do you want to go into the house?" Liam asked.

The man bobbed his head side to side scarcely, as if thinking it over. "Like I said, we have a few scores to settle."

Sounded good to Liam. "Come on in," he said casually.

The man tossed Ira onto the lawn like a rag doll. He hit with a thud. Liam scooped him out in the second it took the man to circle the house. He was breathing, though shallow. Hopefully someone would hear all the noise and call an ambulance.

The man stood on the walkway. "By the way, my name's Naeem."

"I'm Liam."

Naeem snarled and his face mimicked the action. His green eyes stabbed at Liam - then the fight began.

* * * *

Back in the waiting room in the maternity ward of Sunnydale hospital, Buffy asked Xander an unorthodox question in order to take his mind of the current situation.

"You think the Scooby gang did drugs?"

Xander stopped his forever parade, back and forth, and said, "What?!"

"Do you think the Scooby gang did drugs?" Buffy said, repeated the question slower this time. "Think about it. A couple of teenagers and their dog, driving around in their green van, seeing monsters wherever they go. Also, it's the seventies. A classic case if I ever heard one."

"What the hell are you talking about!" Xander screamed. "Our best friend is currently giving birth and you're talking about cartoons!" Buffy looked hurt. "Damnit!" Xander said, regretting his earlier words. "Stupid Harris genes at it again!"

"It's okay," Buffy said, brushing off the insult. "We're all under a lot of stress. I just thought a humorous conversation would lighten the mood."

Xander sat down on the plastic chair beside Buffy. "I think the Scooby snacks were where they kept their stash," Xander said. He too wanted to lighten the mood. "They were probably baked inside. Like magic muffins."

"That's why they were able to bribe Scooby and Shaggy to do all that crazy stuff. They were profiting of their addiction." Buffy paused. "Shaggy looks like a hippie too, the hair, the absence of shaving, the bellbottoms," she said laughing. "I feel like I'm in Mallrats or Chasing Amy." 

"Kevin Smith is a god," Xander proclaimed. "He's a hero to people like me everywhere. Losers, that is." Buffy nodded, but felt guilty afterwards for doing so. "I got another one for you, don't you think you need a catch phrase?"

"Like Buffy 3:16 says I just whooped your ass." She chuckled briefly.

"Yeah, or just 'groovy'."

"Army of Darkness?"

"That's right," Xander said. "There's a hell of a lot of phrases you could steal from there. There's 'give me some sugar, baby', 'baby, you got ugly', 'yo, she bitch-let's go'." Xander paused. "And my personal favorite, 'that was just pillow talk, baby'."

"You really like those overly macho movies. You know what some people might say about that," Buffy said, knowing how Xander would react.

"I'm not gay!" Xander said defensively. "I just like it when a big strong man pulls me close, whispers in my ear, plays with my-" Buffy looked at Xander confounded. Xander turned to her and said, "You're not the only one who can play with a person's mind."

Buffy's face expressed anger. "You jerk!" she said as she punched him in the shoulder. She wasn't really angry. It just felt like the right thing to do. The normal "teenage girl" thing to do. The thing you would do if you weren't the chosen one, hadn't died, never sent you boyfriend to hell.

Normal. Is that so much to ask for? 

Xander was rubbing his shoulder. "I'm just a mere mortal remember. I can't take a Slayer punch."

"Sorry about that," Buffy said. She let out a breath. "I hope Giles and Amy come back from the cafeteria soon. I want some food!"

What if they're dead? her subconscious asked. If they are- 

Her thought trailed of. She didn't want to think about it. Regrets about letting them wander off were given birth and soon swarmed her mind.

"Check it out."

The words didn't register with Buffy. It took a moment to enter her guilt-ridden mind and get some attention. She realized Xander had spoken. She tuned her head to the side. Xander was looking forward, into the hallway. Whatever it was, it had to be interesting. Xander's focus was unbreakable. Buffy looked down the hallway and saw Sarah Rosenberg rushing down the hallway. Her face didn't hint at her mood. Buffy now shared Xander's obsession.

Sarah was decked out in the green overalls worn by so many doctors. The green hat, completing the ensemble, covered her hair. Her face was glossy in the florescent light. She was, or had been, sweating.

Xander and Buffy rose to their feet, another thing done by normal people. As Sarah neared, her look of suspended animation disappeared and was replaced by joy. The joy of being a grandmother. Buffy felt an unimaginable weight being lifted.

"Well?" Xander asked. The waiting, no matter how long, was killing him.

Sarah's grin slit across her entire face. She spoke as if to the entire world. "It's a…"

* * * *

Maybe this wasn't such a hot idea. 

A second earlier, Liam was standing in the front doorway of the Rosenbergs', anticipating an attack. Now he felt like megaton bomb went off, and he had front row seats. Liam was being driven backwards by Naeem towards the staircase. Naeem was a tank in his own right. He flung towards Liam in a blur and now held him in his grip. He intended to do damage.

The two hit the staircase and Liam heard a crack. Thankfully it wasn't his spine or any other bones. His inhuman biology saved him that much. If only it saved him from the sensation in his back similar to fiery, piercing knives. He wasn't sure if the staircase collapsing would be a good thing or bad thing. If it took another blow like the first, it would probably happen.

Liam raised his knee in a gut reflex. The angry grunt heard from Naeem's direction was music to his ears. He raised his fist and swung the abated weapon at the demonic visage hovering over him. It was strong enough to knock him off and onto the floor.

Who the man now? 

Despite his big talk, or thinking as it was, Liam knew he had to catch his breath. Naeem knocked the wind out of him with his charge. Liam raced up the stairs and paused to recuperate his energies. He heard a familiar creek, then another. It was the sound of the fractured pieces of wood moving. Oh shit, Liam thought and braced himself for the collision. 

He felt a known pain in his back once again. Then the wall he was facing suddenly grew in size. The two hit the wall and tore through it like paper mashie. The support beams in the wall weren't kind to Liam. They cut at his skin and clothes, drawing blood from his face. Liam shut his eyes to shelter them from the random splinters. He hit another obstacle after Naeem released him from his grasp. He flew across the room, driven by his own momentum, into the next wall. The drywall split as the lines of separation raced across it where it felt the most pressure. Liam fell to the ground before the wall.

"That was low, going for my package," Liam heard Naeem say.

Liam opened his eyes and saw Naeem gaining his footing. Charging through the wall left him off balance. Liam staggered to his feet and moved over to Naeem. He felt drops of blood travel down his forehead. Naeem saw Liam just as he swung his fist again, with more effort this time. It connected with Naeem's jaw. Naeem snapped his head back and snarled.

Stupid bastard looks pissed. 

_Wouldn't you be pissed if he killed your girl?_

What!? 

Naeem struck a savage blow at Liam's face. For a moment, everything was in slow motion. Liam felt the force of the blow send waves of pain through his jaw and beyond. He his head was cocked back from the blow. Luckily, he was able to steady himself so he was in no danger of being knocked over. Good old center of gravity.

Liam felt the blood from the gash on his forehead reach his lips. At the corner actually. He could feel it slowly creep into his mouth, mixing with the saliva. That wasn't the only blood in his mouth. Thanks to the punch, a new flood entered the orifice. The bitter taste was soon all the senses could register. 

The taste of blood, the thrill of the kill, a wild excitement came over him. An excitement he hadn't felt since… Since…

_Since you ripped out that whore's throat with your teeth!_

SHUT UP! 

He heard the story about how he saved Buffy. How he beat that girl to death with his bare hands. He always justified it as divine retribution. Her kind killed Oz so he killed her, painfully. An eye for an eye if you will. 

If that didn't hold up, he had a host of other excuses. She tortured Buffy, so she deserved it. Karma, basically. He didn't have a weapon at the time so it was a necessary tragedy. Maybe he just got carried away, in the heat of the moment? It could happen! 

Most of the time he just never thought about it. He was a different man back then. He had the memories to prove it. But he always wondered what drove him to do it. Anger? Annoyance? Worst of all, pleasure?

God, what am I? 

_You're evil, baby. Plain and simple._

Liam clenched his fist. He wasn't going down without a fight. He struck at Naeem with a blow that would send most vampires to their makers. Naeem shook it off as easily as the first.

Liam could see that Naeem was already in the midst of a retaliatory punch. He could have moved out of the way, but decided not to. 

Take it like a man. 

The force hit with double the force of the first. Liam didn't care. This is what it's all about he decided. You piss in my yard and I'll piss in yours. The two exchanged blows, neither wanting, or willing, to back down. Liam's eyes were growing a dark shade of green.

"COME ON!" Liam screamed after receiving yet another fist. "YOU FUCKING PUSSY! HIT ME HARDER!"

Blood was pouring down Liam's jaw and neck. His collar was emaciated in a thick coat of blood. The situation was similar for Naeem.

"Fuck you," Naeem mumbled, coughing up blood at the same time. "Fuck you and all your friends. I killed that bitch's boyfriend and I'll kill you too."

Liam paused. The voice in his mind was blaring.

_HE KILLED HIM! HE KILLED WILLOW'S LOVE! ARE YOU GOING TO LET HIM GET AWAY WITH THAT!?! ARE YOU GOING TO LET HIM KILL WILLOW LIKE HE KILLED OZ!?!_

FUCK NO!!! 

The green haze was no longer lurking around in the background. His eyes exploded with the color. A growl, like he never possible, leapt from the bowels of his gut and ravaged Naeem's ears. His lips flared, exposing the fangs, long and acute.

For the first time in three thousand years, Naeem looked afraid.

Liam leapt at Naeem as he had done earlier. Only Naeem never saw it coming. He flung himself forward, hitting Naeem, traveling by the bed, through another wall and then stopping. They were out of the Rosenbergs' bedroom and now in Willow's.

Liam stopped and let Naeem continue staggering backwards. He hit the wall, cracking the outer layer, and by a miracle, remained on his heels. He looked dazed, but was already composing himself.

"Nice fucking run," he muttered. "You should have been a receiver."

Liam stood, only a few feet away, running through all the tortures he wanted to perform on Naeem. Castration sounded good.

"You're going to die!" Liam said with a vengeance. "You're going to die like the girl. I'm going to rip your fuckin throat out."

Naeem's face was no longer an expression of annoyance he projected to anger Liam. It expressed a deep rage that burnt within in him for the past seven months, waiting to explode.

"You killed her! You kill my GALINA!" His blood-bathed lips formed a sadistic smile. "And to think I was going to kill you. Death is to good for you." He started laughing. Liam was confused. "I'm not going to kill you now. First, I'm going to torture you. Then, you're going to watch all your friends die after Jael sacrifices the boy and destroys the Time Stream."

Despite the other portions of the intriguing statement, one word stuck with him. "The boy?" Liam asked.

"The child, The Chosen One. The newborn, whose death will mean destruction for all you mortals," he said with sickening glee. "You think we chose to cleanse this town for no reason. She had to be safe until he was born. Willow Rosenbergs' son will die by tomorrow. Only the pure blood will reign supreme. Your world will be nullified." 

His last words hung in the air like death itself. The voice once again spoke his peace.

_CUT LOOSE, BABY! RIP HIS HEAD OFF! ARE YOU GOING TO LET THE BOY DIE!?! KILL! KILL! KILL!!!_

The chanting engulfed his being, his very soul, and incited the anger extinguished by Naeem's words. He had to die.

"AAAAARRRGGGH!"

Liam rushed Naeem for a final time. Naeem's grin remained even as the two breached the wall and fell from the second floor of the house. Pieces of insulation and wood cluttered the air as they plunged to the earth. Unknown to them, the inhuman figure standing in the distance would ultimately decide who would live, and who would die.


End file.
